Three crap stories

First two are about me and cats, last one isn't.

Years ago, when I was at uni me and a couple of the guys I regularly drank with got our student loans through a few weeks apart, so what this meant was we'd all fork out for each other, and we'd end up on week long drinking binges.

After a while on the drink, woke up one afternoon in Tommy's house, really hungover, made myself get up and started making for the toilet, feeling really nasty. Stood on something soft. Yep, cat shit. 5 seconds later I'm puking into my hands, trying to catch it and running for the toilet. So I then have to clean my own puke (which was hangover nasty stuff and vile), but I have to wash shite off my foot, and while I'm cleaning up the puke, this cat shit is smeared onto the floor right next to me.

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Few years ago I was visiting a girl I knew fromo uni, always fancied a shot at her, so I took the chance years later to go down and visit her for a weekend. SO I get down there, and she's really let herself go, her house is manky, she's not exactly the cleanest, and I instantly regret going. But, I'm making the most of the weekend. So we're out in the back garden, where the grass, of course, isn't cut. Walk into the house and we're play fighting type thing, basically flirting, if I'm going to be there for the weekend I may as well make the most of it. I notice a smell, it's sort of like nasty fart. I assume it's her, and think nothing of it, it gets worse and worse, until I realise I've stood in cat shit out in the garden. It had the consistancy of meat paste, and it was vile. So there's me retching, putting my trainers into a plastic bag and tying it up. Mood ruined for the weekend, worst weekend ever! The trainers sat outside my back door for ages, till they dried, then I scraped em off, then put em in the washing machine. They are pristene clean now, but I still won't wear em.

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This next one I can't vouch for being true or not.

Guy I used to work with, rugby player. Tells me about when some of his friends are down at the borders for a game. They go out on the friday night and get plastered, and the house they are staying it (I think they had it to themselves) is at the bottom of a grassy hill. So on the way home they fall/roll down this hill. One of them gets to the bottom, and decides he's fine where he is, and falls asleep. Wakes up shivering in the morning, about 9 or 10. He's shat himself. After an initial panic he realises that his mates won't be up yet. He's got an hour or so before they said they'd get up. So he goes into the house, and sneaks upstairs to the bathroom. Spends half an hour quietly cleaning up. His pants are useless. He hides them in the bog brush holder and uses the sink to try and clean up. After a while he's gotten it off himself, but the sink is a shitty mess. So he creeps out of the bathroom. Downstairs he goes, and he hears the TV on in the living room, pokes his head round the door, and looks straight in the face of an equally surprised man. It's at this point he realises this isn't the right house. Says sorry and leaves.

Is it true? I dunno!

(Um, excuse the length.)

Two stories

1. Years ago, I worked on the tuberculosis floor. I was all kitted out, mask, gown the whole schmear and walked into this guy's room to bring him his meds. I went throught the airlock to see my patient buck naked smearing his shit all over the wall. I screamed, "Trevor, what the hell are you doing?" "Painting a mural, Sister." He was completely delerious with fever.

2. At my mom's 60th birthday shindig, all of my sibs (there's 10 of us) with spouses and kids are there. We're in the fanciest restaurant in my little hometown. Really fancy. Really really fancy.

My excruciatingly unmanageable 2 year old was playing quietly under the table. At this point I didn't care what he did--he was quiet, I knew where he was, he wasn't destroying anything and I could get drunk in peace.

The smell gets stronger and stronger until I catch on and investigate. In rolling around under the table, he has squished this huge turd up his back and out his collar on to his neck and face and then down his leggings into his shoes. He is covered in excrement. There isn't a single handhold on this kid that's not foul.

Husband and I took him in the men's room and tried to clean him. At the end, the bathroom was shitsmeared, all the guests using it had fled and I had a naked crappy toddler wrapped in my angora sweater. (dry clean only. The drycleaners hate me now)

Hubby and I both tipped the maitre d' 20 bucks each, we were so embarrassed.

While

In the 5th form at school, I was coming home on the bus while suffering a horrible stomach bug.As the bus got to my mates stop,my bowels just decided it was time to escape as quickly as possible.I grabbed my stuff and ran out to my mate and did the charlie chaplin walk to his place while shitting myself uncontrollably.Got to his place and his mum was really nice and would you believe it washed both my trousers and my now very messy underwear and then got a lift home into the bargain...of course I was then off for a bit while i recovered...

Also when I was about 4 on holiday in spain, there was this mock wooden american fort.My parents would wonder why there was a que of kids paying me a few pesetas to look into one of the fort rooms.Turns out that I had had a shit in their and was charging the kids to have a look..
And thats not even mentioning the time my mum wanted to take home a sponge she had found on the beach while on holiday in Tunisia,I mean how were we to know it was actually camel dung.